#we just cling to the scraps like ‘IT HAS MEANING’

[gray-mark]

Being in the Magisterium fandom is like being obsessed with a story that two kids came up with at recess

[bhaalble]

I like that Last Unicorn quote as much as the next guy but I do always wind up feeling a little detached from analysis that paints Astarion's disapproval as purely envy. Partly because. No one's doing this for Lae'zel for instance even though she has similar disapproval and similar trauma (all she can remember is a hostile physically and emotionally exploitative environment which expected perfect strength and obedience from her or else she would be punished or killed). But also partly because it feels pretty detached from everything he actually has to say about it.

The thing about Astarion is he loathes weakness. He loathes sentiment and he loathes dependence. You can see this when he actually opens his mouth up about the people he disapproves of saving, but also incredibly loudly when he talks about the other companions, as well as his fellow spawn. If Lae'zel submits to Vlaakith he talks scornfully about how some people just come to love their chains. He's confused and put off if Wyll submits to Mizora to save his father. In every conversation with his fellow spawn (at least when hes not actively manipulating them) he's dismissive and harsh, and clearly he's perfectly willing to sacrifice them for the sake of himself.

There's an obvious origin point of those feelings, of course. Cazador's abuse is designed to actively kill off empathy in his spawn, both towards each other and towards victims. The last time Astarion prioritized someone over his own skin he got locked in a tomb for a year. We can see glimpses of it with the other spawn too, how his siblings are (apparently uncompelled at first) willing to drag Astarion back to their master for their freedom, how Petras' first dream of freedom is getting to drain another person dry. Astarion certainly doesn't seem to feel any real sense of solidarity with them, likely because Cazador understands that them building a community is a threat to his authority the way it was to his own master.

I'd also argue its Astarion projecting his own self-loathing outwards. So much of his quest is about his desperate attempt to escape from who he was. He's been given a chance to slip free of the limitations of being a spawn. He clings to that because of course he would. He also instinctively begins to run over everything in his path, because if there's anything he has learned over the past 200 years its that good things can always be taken away unless you make sure to remove any and all possible threats to that scrap of well-being. He's disdainful of people in need of help because they represent who he fears to go back to being! He calls his siblings "poor fools" while refusing to confront the fact that had it not been for the tadpole he would be in exactly their position, forced to cling to the hope that Cazador is telling the truth for once because escape isn't an option either way. He becomes irritated when Tav slows down to help the unfortunate because they represent roadblocks on his own path to safety.

There's an idea in mental health stolen from airplane safety: that you shouldn't help anyone else until your own mask is secure. What they don't tell you, speaking from personal experience at least, is that PTSD, especially for long term trauma, has a way of making you feel like your own mask will never be secure. And while that's scary, and it sucks, and there should be the utmost patience for it: no one is going to realize that mask is secure for you. Eventually you are going to have to accept the fact that you are breathing just fine. Eventually you are also going to have to accept that people asking something of you isn't them endangering you, even if it can sometimes (often) feel like it. It doesn't make you obligated to help them. But it does mean you have to stop reacting to them like a threat, because not 5 minutes ago that was you.

I think the idea that he's only mad because he's jealous is a gratifying fantasy. He didnt feel safe before, but now through your PC and the power of love he'll feel warm and cozy enough to forgive you for not being there to begin with. But I also think Astarion cannot live in a reality where he's never pushed back on. His instinctive self-protective movements are a coping mechanism, yes, but coping mechanisms developed under survival conditions can also be a way of keeping you frozen in your trauma. Outside of the environment they were necessary for, they can even hinder you from growing in the ways you need to grow to move past what happened to you. Sometimes, you need to stop a baby tiefling from getting crazy murdered by a snake because it turns out. That can happen to anybody not just people who are weak and stupid and deserve to die anyways not like me I'm normal-

[auspicioustidings]

The mission goes tits up and you wake up in a basement with a man you don't recognise in a mask that you do.

NON-CON

"You cosplaying now?"

"Thought I'd get you nice and comfortable. Tell me, this mask make that little cunt quiver?"

"Oh fuck you!"

"Glad we agree."

It's brutal. You try and fight, try and refute him when he laughs at how you get wet. Is that all for him he wonders? For the man you think of when you see that mask? You spit and scream and claw and tell him that he will never be the man Simon Riley is. He looks at you with pity and tells you that Simon Riley is a user, that just because your precious LT hasn't fucked you and thrown you away yet doesn't mean it won't happen.

You are sure his cock tears you apart, the stretch impossible. But your hips are violently thrusting to meet his, the wet squelch making your body's desperation apparent even as you bark obscenities at him.

"He'll use you up doll. Chew you until you're worthless and spit you right out. But you're too far gone" he grunts, slapping your clit hard without ever slowing in his violent thrusts. "Your pussy likes punishment too much."

"You don't know him!" you cry, nails wet from the blood they are drawing from his back.

He flips you, presses your head into the concrete floor and takes his pleasure like a dog, humping hard with little regard for the bitch under him. Your body is fucking singing, begging for this. The goosebumps feel like needles as he leans his big body over yours to spill filth into your ear.

"And you think you do? You never will the way you want to now, his cock won't satisfy. Going to fuck your cunt to the shape of mine. Won't even save your arse for him doll, every hole is going to have my imprint on it and you'll never stop begging for me to fill it."

You cum. He threatens you and you cum. He twists you body into painful shapes, positions that let him so far inside of you that the pain of your cervix being bullied has you sobbing. You cum then too.

You're babbling, half way begging and half way incoherently praising your LT. He is a good man no matter what the one inside of you says. You cling to that. Simon will save you. Simon is a good man. You love him, you love him, you love him. He'll save you because you love him.

He does. You are dripping with cum by the time he comes into the basement. The taste of it is in your mouth, your thighs sticky, your ass gaping, your pussy tender and oozing. You're out of it, just clinging to him as he lifts you and hushes your crying. He's here now, your LT is here, he's saved you.

You don't know what happened to the man in the basement who fucked you. You are so grateful to have been saved that your energy goes towards hero worship instead. You love Simon so much. You beg for him, for any scrap you can get. Please let me warm your cock while you do paperwork, please use my body to relieve your stress after a long day, please hurt me when you're in pain so we can be closer, closer, closer. Please, please, please. I love you, I love you, I love you.

But then that's what Ghost is good at, tipping the scales in his favour. You had been all together too casual for him, it's obsession or nothing. He doesn't have time for people who half-ass it. They need to be willing to do anything for him, willing to go against everything they hold dear just to please him. Just like the man in that basement.

After all, Mace never does anything Ghost doesn't tell him to.

[vampcubus]

:ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : nsfw, sub!yandere!izuku, dom!fem!reader, kinda mean reader, izuku being delusional & obsessive, spitting, oral (f!receiving), not proofread.

I wanna bully Yandere Izuku just a bit, just to watch him crumple at the slightest crumb of attention. Because let’s face it, Izuku doesn’t care if you’re being nice to him. He wants you to perceive him, to acknowledge him as something tangible — something worth your time. And if you spend that time pulling on his chubby cheeks and hooking your fingers in his mouth to spit into it, who is he to try and stop you?

If he can’t be with you, he can at least be entertaining for you. If you say all he’s good for is to spread his legs and fuck himself on his fingers while you watch, who is he to disagree? All that processes in his fuzzy little head is that he’s good for something.

It’s just fun at first, teasing your pathetic little stalker to see him trip over himself. You didn’t mean for it to go this far, but you can’t deny that the creep has grown on you. After all, who else would get on their knees and worship the ground you walk on while being treated like a pet? Not many, which makes Izuku a special case that you just can’t get enough of.

Your conscience is telling you to get outta there, that playing with someone’s feelings that was so clearly ill for you was a bad idea. You can imagine the fit he’d throw if you proposed such an idea, actually quite vividly because he’s throwing it right now.

“What do you mean we shouldn’t see each other anymore? I thought things were going so well!” He sobs into your thigh, his arms and legs clinging to your leg like a child. Your hands hover just above his head awkwardly, unsure if you should really be comforting him right then. “You can’t break up with me now!”

“Break up? We were never even a thing. There’s nothing to break up. I let you follow me around and we had a bit of fun, but really this is getting out of control. I mean, I’m using you, you know?”

Izuku doesn’t seem to be hearing you though, too caught up in his own delusions. You had expected him to take it poorly, but this was worse than you thought.

“You weren’t concerned about using me before. Why are you abandoning me all of a sudden? I just wanna make you happy!” The man bawls, and you’re ashamed by how the pathetic look on his face excites you.

He was pretty, even when he cried.

“Don’t you see that whatever fantasy world you live in isn’t real? I told you from the beginning that a relationship between us was impossible.”

“But you keep coming back to me. That means I’m useful to you, right? I’ve been so good for you. I’ve stopped following you around as much and I’ve been taking less of your stuff like you asked me to! I’ve done everything you asked without question, you can’t throw me away now!” Izuku’s fingers twist in your shirt, and he uses it as leverage to drag himself up from the floor.

“Izuku,” you sigh, more protestations resting on the tip of your tongue, but he beats you to the punch.

“Let me prove to you how much you need me. That no one can make you feel as good as I can, can submit to you like I can.” He sinks to his knees before you, like he’s done countless times before, his shaking hands pulling your skirt up so he can mouth at your cunt through the cotton of your panties.

Your knees buckle at the contact, your hand rushing down to hold the back of his head despite yourself. You can only sigh and let him lap at you, letting him tug your panties down your legs to suckle at your oversensitive pussy properly.

You have to admit that he’s gotten much better at this. You can vividly remember the first time you let him go down on you, teaching him how to eat you out the way you liked it. And you can tell now that he’d memorized every word, every moan of approval and scrap of praise you’ve thrown his way because he knows just where you need his slick tongue to tease.

Izuku still moans excitedly into your pussy after all this time, as if the act itself was pleasurable for him too. Not knowing that he dreamed of it years before you met officially, or how he fucked his fist until his cock was raw at the thought of tasting you. He savors every swipe of his pink tongue over you abundant slick like it’s the last time he’ll ever get to, and with a hitch of his breath, tears spring to his eyes when he realizes that it might be.

If he didn’t do a good job you’d leave him.

[fryday]

every time i see someone desperately trying to cling on to the scraps of a hard launch i weep, idk what they're playing at but the hard has been launched, it has long since flown, they're just toying with us now, a hard launch is supposed to come out of nowhere/semi nowhere meanwhile these men have shared their phoneymoon photos and their christian roleplay with us what else is there to launch??? i'm so scared

the hard has been launched 😂😂

anon i've written and rewritten my response to this so many times and have been unhappy with every single version. please take the following, final word dump from after i'd given up trying to structure it properly. i just let the thoughts flow.

i think it comes down to what a hard launch would MEAN coming from dnp, rather than what it tells us. because technically, hard launches are supposed to reveal that two people are in a relationship, right? but with dnp we already know they are (or we're 99.9% sure. or whatever). them saying the words "we are a couple" or posting an unmistakably romantic photo like a kiss pic or something wouldn't ACTUALLY give us any new information.

but dnp MAKING THE CHOICE to say "we are a couple" or show themselves kissing is, i think, the thing that still makes a hard launch matter.

because they've been through... a Lot, with their fans. they went through the sort of Dark Age when the shipping was at its peak and the demands on their privacy were just unreasonable and dan especially was privately struggling with his own sexuality. then they (and their fans) grew out of it and into a more mellowed, settled, mature and understanding phase of their lives when everyone realised we should really just be making an accepting and supportive environment for whoever or whatever they are rather than trying to find the answers for ourselves. and in the end when dan did finally give us the answers about his sexuality and what he and phil were to each other before, it wasn't like anyone was surprised by the answers themselves. we were just grateful dan (and later phil) had reached the point where they trusted us with that information, from their own mouths. because obviously everyone had already known for years. but knowing and being trusted enough to be told are two different things.

and i think it might be the same for people now, re: the hard launch. i think it's less about the confirmation itself than it is about knowing dnp are comfortable enough now TO confirm it. that's what matters

[hazyange1s]

The Clootie Tree

Most of us have obviously noticed the large tree growing just beside the “Ghost of Our Love” quest location where the floating candles lead you. However, some may not have paid as much attention to the strips of fabric tied from its branches, and even fewer still might know what it means (at least, if you aren’t from the UK — I’m American and had to research so if any of you have more to add PLEASE do).

Clooties (from the word for cloth; used in Scotland and Northern England) are the “rags” we see hanging from said tree. It is an old tradition in the British Isles that began as a sort of offering or prayer to Nature and the spirits of the land.

Often, the clooties were affixed to sacred trees (such as the oak seen in game) after being dipped into a well/spring and used to wash the ill and injured seeking the healing powers of nature. They were left to be weathered by the elements: the belief being that with wear, the wish or blessing or affliction would be released into the wind.

I’m sure you can all see where I’m going with this…

I imagine Sebastian bringing Anne to visit the tree shortly after she got cursed. Likely, he didn’t truly think that it would cure her - but saw it as a source of hope and comfort. A child grasping at straws and wishing on stars (or trees) when all else seems futile.

Sometimes, particularly on a bad day, Sebastian might go back to check on the cloth. Has it torn yet? Released its magic into the world, so that he may count the days until it reaches his sister?

It’s not until he brings his own children to wish on the tree that he sees the barest scraps of it still clinging to the wood, and smiles. His dream of curing Anne may not have come true… but it’s a small reminder of the importance of hope in an unforgiving world.

[epiphyllous]

when morning comes (Astarion/Reader) [1]

With your bleeding heart and altruistic bravery, it is almost too easy for Astarion to come to the conclusion that his best plan of action is to seduce you. All he has to do is not fall for you-- a feat easier said than done.

-or-

(Where were you ten, fifty, hundreds of years ago when he needed you? How dare you come now, the knight in shining armor for the less fortunate, when he has been waiting centuries for someone like you to save him? How dare you come to him now when he is like this?)

Word Count: ~10k Notes: Astarion/Reader, Paladin!Reader, AFAB, gender-neutral "you", a study in Astarion's romance route + added features, [switches to your POV], annoyance to lovers, fall first/fall harder, slight Lae'zel/Shadowheart, Wyll/Lae'zel, Halsin/Reader; may have some descriptors of my Tav but generally no specifics (let me have my brown eyes), NSFW contains Virgin!Reader, trauma related to Astarion's past [Part 2]

[Act I: Druid Groves]

From the start, you and Astarion chafed at each other's presence. Granted, he had threatened you at knife point, quick to suspect you were of the illithid colony, and you had responded in kind with a painful headbutt. But surprisingly enough, that had nearly no consequence to the relationship compared to the vastly different way the two of you engaged with the world.

"Do you always just... do things for other people for no reward?" Astarion asks you disdainfully when you promise Zevlor you would speak to Kagha. It's the third favor you've picked up in the last hour. "Seems very... inefficient."

"Yes?" You reply, confused as though he were the strange one. (In his humblest opinion, you're the lunatic who decides to help everyone who asks despite the arguably more pressing issue of their hostile parasite.) "I mean, helping them is going to help us in the long-run. We need information and supplies, and they have both of that."

A half-truth at best. Astarion has seen you soothe stray animals and children on the beaten road, help wayward allies, and offer up your amenities without hesitation. Helping others happens to align with your goal rather than the other way around. He feels his mouth twist in annoyance.

Astarion sniffs at your answer, and you give him the massive eye roll you habitually do every time the two of you argue. "Would it kill you to help them out a little?" You say, "It's not like it's completely out of our way to do it."

You make it sound so simple, he thinks bitterly. He glances at the sword at your hip and the shield on your back and wonders if you could ever understand how it feels to be powerless. It would explain your naivety, the way you cling onto doing the 'right' thing, your paladin vow to protect the weak no matter how foolhardy it may be. 

(Where were you, he thinks, ten, fifty, hundreds of years ago when he was still surviving on the scraps of whatever Cazador decided to provide for him that night? Where were you when his cruel master carved into his skin, a painter on a screaming canvas? When he was buried underground, no longer alive but still living, until he clawed his way up with bloody hands, only to find out his body and soul belonged to another? When he was compelled by vampiric thrall to lead his first victim of thousands to their death?

And how dare you come now, the knight in shining armor for the less fortunate, when he has been waiting centuries for someone like you to save him? How dare you come to him now when he is like this?)

"It's a matter of principle, darling." Astarion simpers, "I, for one, am not the type to play hero."

He expects a sneer, the silent treatment-- those he knows easily how to respond to. The gauging look you give him, though, and a thin veneer of frustration just underneath before it dissipates gives him pause. "Well," you say mildly, "we can agree to disagree. You're coming along anyways so let's just get going, yeah?"

Astarion follows you then with no comeback in mind, only a question as to how far your patience can go.

.

.

.

It is with great hesitation and no small amount of begrudgement that Astarion admits he has never been one for planning. After all, why hope for a future that will never occur? What future does he have when every move he makes is in accordance to someone else's will, every decision made never his own? 

When Astarion decided to travel with the unfortunate duo (now group) with similar illithid fates, he did not anticipate how difficult it would be to hide his affliction of a vampire. For the brief moment in the sun, he thought perhaps that because he was immune to daylight, his thirst for blood would have also disappeared. Imagine his surprise, nights after, when he finds himself starving and with no inconspicuous way to feed himself. 

There is always someone on the lookout for goblins or other enemies alike. There have been few times he can sneak out without calling attention to himself, especially for such a long absence as hunting for prey would be. Astarion can feel himself grow weak over the course of a few days, and though he briefly thinks about telling you the truth about his identity, he is resistant. 

Good heroes tend to hunt creatures of the night like him. Considering his blatant disregard for those you choose to protect, he isn't sure he will continue to be under your protection if he is outed. Astarion finds traveling as a pack to be too conveniently safe, but he is so, so hungry. In the midst of his hunger, anyone's blood will do, but it is yours that tempt him most: healthy, righteous, and pure-hearted. He has never been allowed to feed on a thinking creature, and at this point, he isn't sure if he should, considering the risks.

But Astarion is tempted by the smell of your blood shed during a particularly fierce battle, and as he feels his hands tremble, he concludes that he must find a way to feed tonight.

You always, without fail, set your tent up near the fire. It is where he finds himself creeping over your bedroll at the dead of night only to find that you have woken up to look up at him in shock. (He has never been one for planning.)

"...Shit," Astarion lets slip out, backing away. You stand at the ready, eyes boring into him as you come to the realization of what he is. "No, no- it's not what it looks like."

 "...And what exactly is it supposed to look like then?" You ask tensely, and Astarion feels the situation quickly run away from him.

"I wasn't going to hurt you!” He puts his hands up and swallows. “I just needed, well, blood."

"You're the reason why that boar on the side of the road had no blood.” You realize, narrowing your eyes. "How many things have you hunted without us knowing?” You accuse, “People?"

"No!" Astarion exclaims, "No people. Never any people. I can sustain myself on animals, kobolds even-- but it is not enough. Not when we're fighting every day like this."

He sees a flicker of sympathy in your eyes and hope builds in his chest. "I feel so weak," he pleads. "If I just had a little bit of blood, I could think clearer. Fight better. Please."

You don't relax but you don't try to attack him either. Astarion considers that a winning chance. "Have you told anyone that you're a vampire?"

"They're more likely to ram a stake through my ribs than anything," Astarion mutters. "At best– even for you– you'd say no unless you trusted me." He looks up at you and sees the way your eyes look into him for the truth. "And you can trust me. I wouldn't want to harm anyone in this camp." And it is technically the truth, though Gale tests his patience sometimes. Even he cannot promise that he wouldn't betray everyone at the drop of the hat if the situation begs for it, but this is a completely different matter at the moment. 

Your gaze is unfaltering, the silence palpable as the two of you look at each other. Astarion feels his palms sweat as he awaits your judgment and for the proverbial hammer to possibly fall on his head. 

"Okay," you say instead. "Alright. I trust you. As long as you don't try biting me again without permission, it's fine. Can you promise me that at least?"

"Really?" Astarion knows this is what he could ever hope for, but a part of him is baffled that you would ever think to trust him. He supposes your foolhardy compassion has its benefits-- though he would be lying to himself if he didn't admit there was a part of him that was rather... flattered by your trust. "Yes- yes, of course. Thank you."

He presses his lips in thought. If you were so willing to put your faith in him, then perhaps it would not hurt to ask. "If I could ask you to trust me just a little further..." He says, "I just need a little blood. I won't take anything more than I need. Please."

Astarion can see the hesitation in your eyes when he asks. Are you weighing your trust in him, he wonders. Or are you worried about your safety, the benefits versus the risks? It would make sense-- you really shouldn't. But a moment before you respond, he somehow knows that you would. 

[He looks so tired, you think, heart clenching with sympathy. You wonder how you've missed it for this long or if he's that good at pretending otherwise in the presence of others. It could be both-- Astarion has shown to be a great performer, and you are one of his best audiences. You find it difficult to argue against letting him bite you; the anticipated pain, the possible negative effect, the case that his hunger is too much for you to quench all pales in comparison to what good you would do for him. 

You are halfway to being smitten already, and you cannot deny yourself this.

But you are not naive. You are not fearless. For whatever trust you give to Astarion, you are afraid of the fact that if he betrays you in this, you can never go back to how it was before.]

"Promise me you'll stop if I tell you to," you tell him quietly. 

He acquiesces quickly. Of course, he will, he promises, only just enough. You lay back down at his suggestion, body tense in anticipation. He does not let that feeling linger too long, seizing his chance before you decide to change your mind. He buffets your body with his arms before he sinks his teeth into your outstretched neck. 

You taste better than he could possibly have imagined. 

To think he fed solely on mice before-- bog water in comparison to the sweet red of your blood, invigorating and undeniably delicious. Astarion gets another mouthful and groans, feeling strength return, warmth pooling into his belly. If bears and boars were the main course, then you are the mouth-salivating dessert– irresistibly delectable and leaving him wanting for more.

Your body trembles underneath him, your hand clenched into his shirt as a counterweight to the pain. Your pulse bounds underneath his tongue, the small gasps you cannot suppress resounds into his ears. This, too, puts feeding in a different plane than before, an extra level of appeal that can only be experienced with thinking creatures. Perhaps it is you in particular that adds another layer to the pleasure. Having you at his mercy, taking what you so graciously offered with ravenous hunger: power courses through him for more reasons than one.

[Your heart beats as fast as a rabbit's, fear and adrenaline powering you in the same manner. Or, if you were being honest, anticipation and a little bit of excitement fuels it as well as Astarion climbs on top of you, hunger in his eyes. 

It is a more literal type of hunger, but it is an intense look either way that leaves you frozen like a deer in headlights. 

The bite itself is more shocking than it is painful. You barely muffle your exclamation, unused to the feeling of someone so intimately close combined with the instinctive fear that accompanies the loss of blood. You hold onto Astarion without thought, and you squeeze your eyes and bite your lips as he takes your blood in with every suck. 

As scared as you may be, you are undeniably aroused from the feeling of it all-- the numbness that gently overtakes your mind, the light, floaty feeling of pleasure of the bloodloss combined with the intimacy of someone you’ve always been attracted to. The knowledge that he is gorging himself on you, taking pleasure from you, makes your blood run hotter than it has any right to in this situation. 

And then, you feel a switch flip, and the lightness becomes disorienting, and the numbness bleeds into coldness. Panic starts climbing up your throat. You let yourself think for the briefest moment if Astarion will let go on his own, but you know you will not last long enough to wait. Worry gnaws at you at this thought, and you can only hope that Astarion is true to his word when you tell him to stop.

And he does. Perhaps it is the feeling that you have placed your trust in the right person that has felt the best out of everything that has happened tonight.]

"Astarion-" he hears you grit out, "that's enough."

“Hm? Oh, yes, of course.” It takes but a moment for Astarion to register it before removing his fangs from your neck. He sees blood trickle from the punctures and he bemoans the waste as he pulls away. Next time– if there is a next time– he'll be neater, he thinks. He watches as you breathe just as hard as him, eyes slightly glazed over, and he barely resists the urge to lick his lips. 

He stands from you to give you space, and you slowly sit up, looking at him with an emotion he can't quite place. It concerns him little at the moment with the strongest blood he's ever consumed in two millennia coursing through him.

“That was…” Astarion begins, breathless with adrenaline, “Amazing.” He delicately wipes the blood from the side of his mouth, an irrepressible smile on his face.

“Hope that helped,” you say, and he almost laughs at the understatement of two centuries.

“It very much did.” Astarion breathes in deeply. “My mind is finally clear. I feel… strong,” he nearly purrs. Happy.”

“Looking forward to seeing you fight then,” you say, hand at your neck as the punctures gradually close. You sigh, wiping your bloody hands onto the patch of grass. “Going out to hunt?” You ask like any other day.

“I am, darling.” He stands tall, head held high with a confidence he has not felt in ages. To think this is what he's been missing out on… “You're invigorating, but I'll need to get something more… filling,” he tells you, glancing back.

You give him a flippant wave of the hand, and he isn't sure if you are too tired to be wary of him or uncaring of the risk considering what you allowed him to do. “Good hunting,” you say genuinely before yawning. 

“I will. And-” You turn to him then, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion but still alert. Astarion pauses for a moment. “This is a gift, you know,” he says. “I won't forget it.”

He walks off into the forest after and finds easy prey to feast on. It's a shame it does not taste as good as you did, but he will make do and ride out the feeling of power for as long as he can. It is when he returns to camp with you fast asleep by the fire that Astarion realizes the emotion on your face was relief: relief that he had stopped when you had asked, and that he kept to his word. 

What a fragile thing trust is, to be put to the breaking point at a single moment in time. What if he had continued to consume and drink you dry? He suspects it would have rather dire consequences to your mortality and even worse effects to his relationship with you. It would be unsalvageable, he realizes, if he had not stopped when you had asked. For some things may be forgiven, but this would be reprehensible. 

Astarion finds that he understands you too well for his liking. How many times has he not been able to give consent? Wanted to say 'no' but forced to say yes? (Not knowing now how to say 'no' at all?)

For the sake of his own livelihood (the camp would kill him for your death), his budding relations with you, and a part of him that yearns for what he should have had, Astarion is glad that he was not greedy tonight-- and, as the day comes, for the following nights to come.

The pitchforks and torches do not come the next morning. Maybe it is because everyone else has their equally dangerous secret to hide or because of your influence on the camp. You are more concerned at how you would help him feed than afraid that he will hurt anyone. 

"Why, isn't it my favorite traveling companion," he says to you when you approach him.

"You mean tastiest,” you say back, and he knows you are truly well and beyond hard feelings if you can joke about it.

"Well, I suppose that as well.” He tells you, “Though you have been the only one I've bitten so there is no competition, really."

And to his surprise, telling you about Cazador, his ill-begot fate as a vampire spawn and its subsequent diet, is easier than he would have expected. You listen with a sympathetic but otherwise neutral ear that makes it easy for him– and he suspects everyone else– to confess their circumstances to you. He's rather surprised he's been able to “resist” for this long. Even Gale has confessed he has a literal living bomb inside him in the little time they've all spent together as a group. 

(It goes to show how much everyone has grown to trust you; even Astarion is starting to see what everyone else sees in you.)

“I don't mind you taking my blood once in a while,” you instruct him, “but you can't just do it to an innocent person.”

“And how about a guilty person?” Astarion asks slyly, gleefully watching as you saddle next to him with a similar smile. 

“Free real estate, I suppose,” you say nonchalantly. “Just ask before you bite me?”

“No more late night surprises, you have my word on that.” He smiles, fangs bared, and you don't even blink at the sight of them. 

.

.

.

In the druid grove, you pick up a few more favors from the locals, though at least you have begun to ask for aid for the road. Not exactly payment, though you are offered a reward anyways. Astarion thinks you are either very lucky people are desperate for help or very charming in that innocent, eager to do good type of way that compels people to be generous. It is not unlike Wyll, who joins your group of illithid-afflicted companions, as the Blade of Frontiers. 

Naturally, the two of you get along as like-minded individuals. Gale, too, gravitates toward you for your compassion, and Shadowheart trusts you for perhaps the same reasons. Even Lae'zel, who you often have problems speaking to without feeling intimidated, has come to begrudgingly accept you as the de facto leader of the group. You are, as Astarion suspected, strong in battle as you are in personality. 

He often forgets both, but he cannot be blamed. After he witnesses you stand up to Lae'zel for the sake of an intimidated tiefling, he sees you lose an argument against a squirrel. Astarion sees you send goblins off rooftops and speak to trolls with confidence, and then he watches as you ask him to unlock a barn door with raunchy sex noises simply out of morbid curiosity. 

It is in these moments-- apart from your heroism and startling sense of morality-- that you and Astarion are often on the same page. As long as it is not from the needy, you don't find it a problem to loot. (He thinks practicality plays a role in disturbing dead bodies for money and items, and your vow says nothing against it.) If it's for the sake of peace, you don't mind spinning half-truths and lies. (The lies he personally thinks you need to work on more but he is a master of deception so perhaps there is no comparison with him.)

Your curiosity knows no bounds, and it is in this, both you and Astarion take cheerful glee in raking chaos. 

"I don't know what I expected!" You say almost cheerily after the group defeats the unlikely couple of bugbear and ogre after purposely interrupting their very loud lovemaking. 

Shadowheart gives you a raised eyebrow that has you sheepishly grin at her, and Astarion lets out a laugh. "Well, I certainly had a guess, but finding out was very interesting indeed."

"Interesting... is certainly a way to describe the scene we just witnessed," Gale says dryly. Astarion catches your eyes before you smile slyly. 

Innocently, you comment, "I wonder how the mechanics worked with the height difference-"

Gleefully, Astarion is quick to join in, watching Gale balk at the topic, “Well, with the way she was on her knees-” 

"Some things need not be pondered!"

That is when Astarion realizes that as long as the world stops begging for your help, the two of you get along quite well. If anything, Astarion finds your presence and comments most amusing out of everyone in camp. Gale is exceedingly verbose and other times awkward. Lae'zel Astarion isn't sure knows the meaning of joking, though her violent tendencies are right up his alley. Shadowheart-- as it turns out and makes total sense-- is a worshiper of Shar and therefore an automatic stick in the mud. 

Wyll waxes far too much about justice, and Karlach, when they find her and proceed to not kill her despite Wyll's initial request, is the next best thing though he is still wary of how hot she burns. You, however, have the humor and wit to match every ridiculous situation they encounter, and if anything, Astarion must give you that. God knows how he'd survive the boredom of camp and not being arms deep in gore without having someone to gossip with. 

The two of you agree the most when it comes to other topics, like Mystra's treatment of Gale, how good Wyll looks with horns, feelings about Gods. It makes for great and easy conversations though the two of you are also quick to snark if there is a disagreement. Astarion admits his words were sharp in the beginning (and you gave it right back until you just mellowed out) but he eventually relaxed when his role in camp solidified after his vampiric reveal.

And what a gift your blood was; Astarion counts his lucky stars that you continue to offer your neck to him as long as it is only yours he bites-- with permission, of course.

He was almost beginning to relax when a gur comes, asking for him.

Luckily enough, it seems this Gandrel has no idea what he looks like, so the two of you can play innocent together. You and Astarion give each other a discrete look before you go back to talking to the monster hunter. It must be Cazador, he seethes. Who else would put a Gur on his tracks acres away from Baldur's Gate? 

"And what did you want to do with this vampire spawn?" You ask innocuously.

"I would like to capture him."

"Capture? Not kill? Does someone want him alive?" You question, and Astarion must give you this: you are an excellent conversationalist, to seek more without giving much at all. Your eyes widen in what can be assumed as surprise, though they remain calculating. "You said so yourself: even vampire spawn are dangerous. Why would you accept a job to capture him?"

The gur shuffles his feet for a moment, chewing on his words. Astarion watches in secretive awe as you urge the hunter to trust you with unbidden information. "Well... It's not a request from an outside source..." He trails off, "We... have questions we were hoping he would answer."

Now that's curious, Astarion thinks. What would a monster hunter need for a spawn besides its demise? He knows you have the same question when he glances over at you as you watch on thoughtfully.

"Were you hoping to capture it to get to the vampire lord or something?" You ask, "Is that something that would even work?"

"We have little leads besides this vampire spawn, if I can be frank." He sighs and Astarion watches as he unravels the truth before you. "It's our children, you see. They've been captured.”

You are ever sympathetic to the Gur's plight--genuinely so. You hold no qualms keeping Astarion's name from your mouth but you speak to the Gur and provide him with advice and information you have received from Astarion. What a cheeky pup you are, playing double agent without batting an eye. Astarion feels like forgiving you for taking away the opportunity to get rid of the monster hunter once and for all just for the show of your wit and guile. 

Though Astarion thinks you could afford to be more ambitious. If you could have perhaps a little creativity in deciding what you want to do with the little tadpole in your brain or the absolutist cult, Astarion is sure the two of you would get along more.

"I don't know how the tadpole will change me," you admit with unexpected vulnerability. "I don't want to give them more power over me, and I don't know if feeding them will let them."

"Well..." Astarion pauses, scoffing at your response before he can accept the fact the two of you have more in common that he would rather believe. He'd rather not lose what he barely got back as well, he thinks. "I suppose there is reason to hesitate so maybe I'll wait until some other brave soul decides to give it a go." He gives you a look before continuing, "Try not to convince the others too much. I'm not too eager to be the first and only one to eat a tadpole."

You shrug noncommittally, promising nothing. Astarion barely resists the urge to roll his eyes. Paladins. 

.

.

.

Considering the dire straits in which you are bound and the rocky start the two of you had, Astarion would not have imagined the relationship with you to progress in this manner. Having you trust him was already beyond what was expected, especially after revealing his vampiric origins. Giving him your blood was a gift that he could hardly believe happened. One can imagine his surprise when he finds out you are charmed by his wits, finding genuine joy in his wry commentary. 

For god knows why, you have grown fond of him-- he can see it in the way you provide him with the best equipment, the way you seek his presence. The way you laugh freely around him and turn your back to him during battle, believing he will defend it. Though arriving at this point was coincidental, it is almost too easy for Astarion to come to the conclusion that his next step is to seduce you. 

Astarion sees your laughter, but he also sees the way you throw him glances when you think the others aren't looking. You instinctively lean closer to him when he is near and when he speaks, your eyes are quick to find him. You are attracted to him– and he means to capitalize on it and make you feel as though you would rather die than have him get hurt.

It's a simple plan, really. The seduction comes easy; all he needs to do is stay unattached, so if things go wrong, he'll find someone else to take cover under. 

(The plan should be simple-- he has learned tactics that would put any to their knees, tricked hundreds of people of his affections. But something about doing this to you-- this performance-- makes him uneasy. 

It's a shame, he finds himself thinking. He thinks he was beginning to like you too.

The thought lingers only for a moment. He is quick to push it from his mind; that too is a learned habit.)

Astarion finds his opportunity after the goblin camp has been slain and the tieflings throw a celebration in thanks. 

The wine is mediocre at best, but there is much of it to be shared, so the party is still in full blast when the moon is overhead. He finds himself a secluded part of camp to sip at the sorry excuse of a liquor, discomfited by the praise they give him for participating in the fight against the goblins. 

You are unused to the praise as well, humble as you are, but you are nearly glowing from the joy you feel as you make merry with those you have befriended. The rest of the party, even companions who were ambivalent at best at the idea of helping the tiefling immigrants, are satisfied with the outcome despite the lack of progress with removing the tadpole. He would say otherwise– the trade of goblin lives for tieflings hardly makes a difference, and surely the goblins would throw a wilder party than this. He says as much to you when, faithfully, you find your way to him to talk.

“All I want,” he tells you, “is a little bit of fun. Is that so much to ask?”

You snort into your drink. “Knowing you, it could be.”

“Don't be so sour,” he croons. “I like a good time as much as anyone.” His eyes fall half-lidded as he looks at you. You raise your brow at him, noticing the change in tone as he continues. "You know, we could always make our own entertainment."

The look you give him is partly apprehensive and the other amused. He knows that glimmer of recognition of what he is asking, though you are quick to hide it for plausible deniability. "...What do you mean by that?"

Astarion, with practiced ease, leans in, watching as you instinctively do the same before he purrs out, "Why, sex, of course. Experiencing a little death, figuratively speaking, is quite fun, wouldn't you agree?"

Your face is already flushed from the alcohol, but your cheeks on high brighten in the dimly lit torches at his tent. It's evident you didn't expect him to suggest something like that, especially to you, though you are not completely unwilling if the lack of immediate denial is of any indication.

You are rendered speechless though; a first for you considering how quick you often are at retorting back at his comments. It makes Astarion think of two conclusions: you are either inexperienced or incredibly shocked at his offer. Both are familiar, though the thought of your naivety extending into sexual relations does, at the very least, give him pause.

It is not as if he has never been someone's first. Virgins are often most eager to lose or prove themselves in someone so willing to offer bliss. If you are one, well– the shy ones are always the ones that are easier to fell.

He prepares himself to drop a few one-liners to convince you to take the offer, but you glance away for a moment before you turn toward him, face unreadable.

"If you're down," you say. You smile.  "I don't mind."

"Until later then," Astarion replies easily. "Wouldn't want the others to interrupt, unless you're interested in that."

At this, you laugh, and he relaxes. "Definitely not. Though, I'm curious." You ask, "Am I your first choice, or am I just the first to say 'yes'?"

Astarion finds the best lies are in truths. "Lae'zel was quite eager to find a partner earlier. Luckily she and Wyll are in quite the agreement for tonight as far as I can hear and I have no desire to get in between whatever the githyanki has in store." He smiles slyly at you. "Besides, I couldn't help but overhear you flirting with our druid earlier so I at least knew you were in the, ah, mood. Never imagined you'd be quite so bold." 

"It's the alcohol," you mutter, rubbing your cheek. You take the wine from his hand and take another swig. "Also, I didn't realize he'd be coming with us so that was a surprise. Almost as much of a surprise as you asking me." You glance at him briefly. "Well, sort of."

Astarion feels a familiar prickle of suspicion as he stares at you, already unamused at whatever dirty truths you have prepared for him. "What is it now?"

You quip a half smile, eyes bright under the torch fire. (Your eyes are brown.) "Nothing," you say teasingly. "Guess you do like me a little bit."

Astarion watches as you walk away, feeling less victorious than he imagined himself to be.

The flirting, the seduction, the fight for survival is familiar. The banter, the bickering, the camaraderie between the two of you is beginning to be just as familiar. Astarion feels just the slightest bit unease at how true your words are. 

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.

.

Astarion has much to prepare for the night, so it is lucky that you take center stage of the party, as the savior of the grove. You take part in the merriment and make conversations, taking genuine interest in the stories others tell. The tieflings keep you busy for the most part, but Astarion is nothing if not good at building anticipation, putting as much heat into his gaze as possible when you do have time to take a glance at him. 

You are quick to focus your attention elsewhere after giving him a look, but the smile on your face that stays means that at least he is always on your mind. In some ways, he has missed this... coyness, the thrill of the chase. The results of his previous endeavors never fail to unease him, but with you, it is different. The familiarity of seduction comes with a little bit more fun knowing you are not going to be his victim- not like it usually is. 

"Hey, still not joining in on the fun?" You suddenly ask him, your hand gently prying at his arm so you can hook onto him. You have gotten more drunk in the time you were away, the warmth of your skin seeping into him from where you've attached yourself. Your face is almost comically red if not for the carefree smile on your face and the affection that betrays on your face when you look at him.

Something in his chest warms at the sight of you.

"Unfortunately, the tieflings' company has not become any more appealing since you've been gone. Besides," Astarion says slyly, "the only thing I've been thinking of is how you'll taste later when we're alone."

You let out a huff, turning your head away with a half-embarrassed and pleased smile. "Laying it on a little thick, aren't you?"

"Not at all," he replies easily. "It's the truth, after all." 

You look at him as though you don't believe a word, but you are charmed by them anyway if your expression is of any indication. As conscientious as you normally are, the alcohol and the fact you are delving into his territory of seduction puts you at a disadvantage. Even if you are the one that knows him best in the camp, you are not attuned to every secret. Half-truths and lies come easier than anything else, if only because it allows him to keep his distance.

When the camp is cleared and you linger to bid the others farewell, Astarion slips away to the lake to prepare. It is almost ritualistic the way he cleans himself, the cold waters readying himself for what comes next. He thinks of what lines to tell you, how he should appear to you to best whet your appetite. Are you chaste or are you more animalistic? Would you prefer to take a dominant or submissive role? Astarion cannot tell these things about you based on his interactions with you, so he can only rely on his flexibility and years of experience to get him through it. 

(For a brief moment, he wonders if this is something he must do. What if you would protect him regardless of how this night goes? You are compassionate, sympathetic to the plight of others-- goodness flows within your veins like the light that beacons from your holy sword. Could that light not shield him too, without his body as an offering?

But gods are rarely so magnanimous, no matter the sacrifices. Astarion will not take his chances even with you. 

Even then-- even then, he wants this night to be at least a little enjoyable. It is with you, after all. If there is someone who can allow him to feel safe, it is you.)

Moonlight beams above, and Astarion hears your quiet footsteps come closer. His expression masks into something more suitable for seduction and he steps from the shadows of the trees to greet you. 

Upon seeing him, you yelp in surprise and- god, can you blame him?- he jumps as well. 

"What in God's name-"

"Sorry, sorry! I didn't expect to see you half naked all of a sudden!" You stammer, "I mean, not all of a sudden, I guess. Your... state of undress didn't cross my mind as something I'd see right away."

It is reckless when his mark is so close to fruition, but he finds himself dropping the act, hand at his hips in an instinctual indignant huff you seem to invoke from him easily. "Darling, what did you expect after the invitation I gave?" Your sheepish grin is your only answer, and Astarion feels a quick flash of annoyance at how easily you are able to derail his thoughts. 

Quick to redirect the conversation though, Astarion angles his body sensually, lowering his voice in the manner he knows can send shivers down his victims. "Perhaps you'd prefer if you could strip me down yourself?"

Like clockwork, your cheeks flush pink even as you roll your eyes in attempts to salvage your embarrassment. "Only you'd be able to pull those lines out of nowhere," you mutter, and Astarion allows himself the satisfaction when you approach him, eyes looking down at him appreciatively.

Only a small gap lies between the two of you now, your dark eyes meeting his. You are waiting on him; Astarion does not hesitate. 

He takes your face into his hands and brings his lips to yours. Your eyes close almost immediately to the touch as you give into him, face tilting up to align with him and mouth parted to allow him in. Though Astarion knows not how you incline to be normally, he knows that this night, he's the one in control.

Your hands curl into the front of his chest as though you do not know where to touch, so he helps you along and pulls you in until there is nothing separating you. Astarion can see the way your eyes widen when you can feel his arousal beneath his trousers, and recognizes your interest with the way your pupils darken your eyes. 

There is a slight satisfaction in seeing you this way. As stubborn as you are, you are malleable in his touch, opening up to his hands like a flower in bloom. He lifts you up against the tree, your legs quickly wrapping around his waist in response, and your little giggle morphs into a gasp of pleasure when he grinds into you fully. 

It is probably instinctual the way you arch your back and bare your neck to him. It isn't in him to resist the temptation to bury his nose into the crook, nipping at the sensitive skin between your collar bone. And this is when he feels your hands, that were curled into his hair, push him back slightly, and his stomach drops. 

He should be worried that he made a mistake and think about how to put you back on track with him. His safety depends on his success, after all. Despite himself, Astarion feels more hurt at your rejection, your mistrust, than anything. (Since when did that ever matter to him?)

"I wasn't going to bite, you know," he says, hoping nothing in his voice gives anything away.

"No, that's not it," you tell him, and your hand is quick to cup his face reassuringly. He finds himself soothed by your gesture though he wishes he was not in need of it in the first place. "I trust you not to without my say. I mean, you probably could tonight if you wanted..." You trail off. "I just wanted to let you know something before we go any further." 

The offer for blood pleases him more than it should, as does the affirmation of your trust. "Whatever you want to say, darling, I doubt it'll deter me from having my way with you tonight," Astarion says, eyes half-lidded and staying strong despite the undignified huff you give him. 

"Well, alright," you say as you try to save face. You brush over his collarbone with your thumb as you think. You're nervous, he realizes, over whatever you have to say, and he can't begin to guess what you could possibly reveal that would be of such import to leave you in such a state. "I... have never-- this is my first time. Having sex," you say, and Astarion does his utmost not to show any semblance of surprise. 

"I hope," you continue, "that's okay? You'll probably have to show me a lot of things but, you know..."

You are a virgin after all. Astarion had some thoughts on the matter but he never truly took stock in it considering how rare it is to save yourself for this long. You were modest but far from prude, and you had thoughts of debauchery like any other in the camp. But you are of untouched flesh. Inexperienced. And yet you accepted him to be your first? 

You are not so unique that he has never bedded someone like you, but it does tweak his heart in a way it has not for a long while that you are giving yourself to him as a result of his seduction. You feel self conscious about this inexperience, and it would be easy to take advantage of that for his benefit. Typical, even.

The thought does not sit well with him.

"I know you wanted a fun night," you tell him, eyes downcast when he does not respond. "So I get it if you're not interested anymore since I'm probably going to be a lot of work-"

"And what’s to say we cannot have fun while discovering something new?" Astarion interrupts in a momentary panic. He's not on autopilot but he's not stopping the night from happening despite your deference- so what is he doing? "Darling, I'm rather concerned you want to spend your first night with a vampire-" He needs to get back on script.

He recites the words in his mind. Isn't this what you want? To lose yourself in me? And all he has to do is say it-

"No, that's not-" You talk back, frowning. "You being a vampire has nothing to do with it. When you asked, I said yes because I trust you, vampire or not." 

To have and to hold, he thinks, and wonders how you have survived for so long being so willfully trusting when at times you should not. "Then trust me, darling," he says, heat building in his chest. He lifts you up again and growls. "Let's have some fun. That's what you want, isn't it?"

"If that's what you want," you breathe out, and Astarion claims your mouth with his own.

You let out a sigh when he begins to undress you, his dexterous hands easily removing every lace and button to leave you bare. You giggle into his kiss, and Astarion lets himself smile, being pulled along as you roll on top of him playfully, mischief in your eyes. You full on laugh when he rolls you back over, uncaring of the outdoors, bearing your neck for him to bite. 

Astarion doesn't remember the last time he's had fun doing this. And it is fun- always has been with you, he realizes, a type of levity that he has not experienced with anyone else. He takes leisure in biting you, sucking a mouthful of blood that has him moaning into your neck as he rolls his hips into you. Your hand gently cards through his hair as he bites, and true to his word (only taking just enough), he pulls back with blood on his lips before swooping down to share in his bounty. 

He cannot help but laugh when you stick out your tongue at him, nose wrinkling at the metallic taste of blood that is otherwise sweet to him. He pulls his remaining clothes off and smirks when he sees you follow the line of sight down to his hardened cock in compulsive curiosity. 

"Like what you see, darling?" 

You make a noncommittal hum as you sit up, quick as you are unbothered by your nakedness. "Can I?" You ask, gesturing toward him, and he would find it amusing for you to ask if not for how eagerly you grasp his member at his nod.

Astarion hisses in pleasure as you pump his cock, getting into an easy rhythm with your thumb sliding deliciously on the tip of it. He watches as you gather spit to smoothen the pace, hand delicately pushing your hair from your face, and feel arousal melt into his belly like molten lava. 

"Why, it seems you have a little bit of experience in this matter, or are you just talented?" He asks and earns himself a coy look. 

"Just twice," you say, twisting your hand in a way that has him rolling his hips. "Hold my hair, will you?" 

Astarion is quick to follow your orders-- almost instinctively-- and before he has a moment to ponder on that, he is throwing his head back when your mouth swallows his cock in wetness and heat.

Most of his so-called lovers were more eager to be pleased than please; it makes sense that you would be different with the way you are. Your eagerness is quite adorable, as is your earnestness to provide him pleasure. Astarion revels in it, ecstasy climbing up like a tidal wave.

"That's enough, dear," Astarion purrs. He sees you look at him with a protest on your lips, and he continues, "I'd much rather continue this while I'm inside you." 

Based on your expression, you are more than thrilled at the aspect. 

Astarion guides you to lay down as he climbs over, hands carving a path over your curves and into your heat. He is careful to not scrape his fangs over your bosom, though he suspects you would not mind it in the least with how roughly he plays with your nipples to elicit a moan. You are dripping by the time he is done preparing you. 

It does not take much resistance to enter you fully. You let out a short cry, reaching out to him instinctively for comfort as your body adapts to him. True to your words, you are tight beyond measure, squeezing his cock as though you are determined to milk him for what he's worth. You pant into his ears, hands grasping over his shoulders as you ease into the feeling of him. 

The moment you nod, Astarion begins to move steadily. It is easy for the both of you to lose yourself in the pleasure, and it is these moments that he feels himself drift away, and the feeling of dread settles in.

Any type of intimacy takes him acres away, the gasps and moans that was music to his ears fading into numbness. He hardly knows what he's doing, except to know that he's doing well enough, hands playing at your clit as he moves at a persistent rhythm.

Astarion wishes it were different. Sex is fun, especially with you, if only it didn't make him feel as though he were fighting for his life. Every stroke calculated, every climax comes with a price. You are not to be taken back to Cazador, but it still feels like he's going to. 

You tighten around him, and he knows you are about to come just as he is. He lets out a grunt and persists through a rapid pace before feeling your body jolt in pleasure. He soon follows after, head upon your shoulder as he shudders into his climax. 

The night is still young; why don't we go back to my place for more? 

Won't you come home with me? We need so much more time to get to know each other.

His next lines come too easily for him that it makes him sick.

A hand pulls at his cheek rather cheekily and Astarion finds himself coming back from the haze. He lifts his head to look at you, face relaxed from pleasure but still otherwise amused. 

Is it ridiculous to think that the sight of you makes him feel safe?

"That," you begin, "was crazy. Sex is like that, huh?" 

"Be welcomed to the land of the living, darling," Astarion says. "I fear you have been missing out on one of the finer parts of life."

"Well, it's not like I've never orgasmed before," you tell him, "but I guess it is pretty different with someone else." You sigh when Astarion removes himself from you. "Thank you for being so patient with me."

"No need to mention it, darling," he says, finding it easy to relax with the banter, "though I dare say it did not take very long for you to be prepared. Why, I'd even call that a record for getting as wet as you did-"

"Hey!" He avoids your playful slap with ease as you pout at him. "I... I have no comeback to that, except maybe you're welcome."

"I'm welcome? I should be the one saying that to you. I'm rather magical in bed, don't you think?"

"I don't know if your neck could support a head that big if I agree with you." You laugh, flipping your hair away again. For a moment, Astarion has the urge to take it upon himself to brush the stray strands from your face, but he does not. "By the way," you continue, "are you okay?"

Astarion blinks. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, you just seemed a little..." You stop before shaking your head. "No, never mind. You seemed a little far away but what would I know."

His heart lurches. "I had to make sure I didn't lose control," he says carefully. He clears his throat and goes for levity. "Who knows if your fragile, virgin body can handle it?"

Astarion is grateful you take the line for how it is, quick to come up with a haughty retort, the banter easy to fall back to. You are adamant on being sturdy enough and not one to waste a chance, he proposes a long night of lovemaking-- if only to cinch the deal with you. After all, he thinks as your legs close around his head, this is all part of his plan: seduce you and win your protection. Nothing more, nothing less.

He tries not to think how sex for once, as he nips playfully at your thigh, has been enjoyable. 

.

.

.

The sun wakes him up before anything else. It is unfamiliar to him, even at least a month beyond the time when his deathly aversion to sunlight has disappeared. The warmth of the morning rays, the light that dawn brings-- Astarion did not realize how much he had missed it until he had felt it again. 

He almost isn't sure if he can ever go back to never feeling it again.

He stands to bask in it fully, glancing over to his side to watch your sleeping figure for a moment. You are curled up in your own clothes-- and his shirt as well, he remembers, having a little play fight over it before you eventually let exhaustion take you. The ache in his body from last night is familiar at least, and he stares at you, waiting for the dread to come-- but it does not. 

How curious. Only good for his plans if everything is more palatable, of course, but it is... unexpected for him to feel so at ease. He decides not to question it, using this moment of strangely acquired peace to face the sun in its entirety.

Your voice filters in after many minutes, a little scratchy from slumber. "You awake already?" 

"It isn't exactly the break of dawn, dear," Astarion replies, and he shoots a glance back expecting your usual deadpan, but you are rubbing your eyes sleepily instead. A thought comes to mind that he has never seen you in your first waking moments: you are rather unguarded, movements leisurely and expression soft still. It's quite... cute. "I'm rather surprised you're awake. I thought you'd be exhausted from last night."

You let out a titter behind your hand at this. "Yeah, well, everything aches in different ways than a fight, so it's not too bad." You yawn. "Still sleepy though," you mumble, looking up at him through the gaps between your fingers as you block the sun from your eyes. 

"Say," you begin, and Astarion realizes belatedly that the reason you were looking so intently at him was because you saw his back. "Can I ask about those markings on your back? Are they scars?"

"A poem from my old master," he replies facetiously. "Or so I assume. He carved it all into my back in one night." His lips purse. "He made a lot of revisions."

"I'm sorry," he hears you say with sympathy in your voice, and he knows he must quickly move on from this topic. 

"It's fine," he says abruptly. "It doesn't matter now. I'm free and far from Baldur's Gate. And he'll never control me ever again."

"Good," you say, and he wonders if putting warmth into your words comes naturally to you.

"Yes, it is." He pauses. "May I have my shirt back? Not that I mind being half nude, by the way- if only to let everyone know exactly what went on last night."

"Don't even joke," you sputter, tossing his shirt- miraculously clean- to him. "I don't kiss and tell! And they'll definitely know, but not the details!”

.

.

.

In the morning glow, nothing much has changed. As predicted, the entire camp is in-the-know of whomever slept with who. Astarion is quick to inquire Lae'zel about her tryst with Wyll, only to find, to the mutual disappointment, that he spent most of the time talking about his feelings. Shadowheart, on the other hand, was more than happy to share her wine last night. 

"Shadowheart mates like she fights," Lae'zel says. "Precisely and aggressively."

"Which is a good thing, I assume."

"Immensely." Lae'zel pauses then in breaking down her tent to look at him intently, which, for the githyanki, is as terrifying as anything. "I see you and our paladin decided to explore each other's bodies last night."

"Why, yes, thank you for noticing. It was quite the exploration," he responds, opening his mouth to elaborate.

"I suppose even you have your charms," she tells him instead, and the conversation ends there.

(Astarion hopes to glean more conversation elsewhere to no luck. Your talk with Shadowheart this morning is brief ("Lae'zel, huh."/"Astarion."/"Yep."), and Karlach's put-out expression is enough to give sympathy and a wide berth. Astarion sees Gale gazing upon the visage of his goddess again and turns the other way.)

The camp dynamic stays strangely the same. It is to Astarion's benefit, for he was comfortable with how the way things were, though he is more generous with the pet names for you. Halsin joins the fray, and they make their way to the mountains upon Lae'zel's insistence. 

In the midst of adventure, Astarion finds that you seek his presence more often. His night invitation seemed to open an avenue up for you to be more comfortable in doing so. Astarion finds he doesn't mind it; your camaraderie is most enjoyable in the too quiet camp and as far as "seducing" goes, you are doing half the work for him. 

Your gaze holds some heat for him once in a while when the moon is high and the fire burns low, but you have not asked him for another night. He is neither pleased nor displeased at the notion, because your affections for him are as clear as day. He knows you would say yes in a heartbeat if he did propose another night together, but he rather likes the late-night conversations he often has with you, a type of intimacy that borders on his comfort zone-- exciting and enjoyable without the unnecessary reminders of his past. 

Still, he sometimes finds himself recalling his night with you fondly. It's strange: he's gotten on his back ten thousand times or more and forgotten half of them, but his time with you, he knows he will remember. 

Astarion puts the thoughts of "why" (why you? Why are you different? What makes you special?) behind him for now. A treasure hunt for the Blood of Lathander (as if you needed to shine even brighter), a stolen githyanki egg (Lae'zel keeps it safe in her backpack), and an escape from a créche later, Astarion is more than happy to find refuge in the underdark, which proves to be more beautiful than any of them could imagine.

Something makes him look over to you then, and he watches as you take in the sights with wonder in your eyes, the gentle darkness cradling your face in its dreamy blue glow.

[destinysbounty]

Most post-s11 fics like to take the approach of Zane blaming himself, and the road to healing requires him to accept that it wasn't his fault. But what if we put a twist on that? What if Zane knows it wasn't his fault, but instead of being relieved by that knowledge he is instead burdened by it?

The fact of the matter is, Zane was nothing more than a weapon. Between his amnesia, the corruption of the staff, and Vex's manipulations, Zane didn't have full autonomy. If we really analyze the Ice Emperor's actions, he seemed very much like a quiet and complacent soldier waiting for Vex to come and tell him what to do. He obeyed Vex's every command (albeit veiled as "recommendations" as they were). The first time we ever see Zane go against Vex or even make a decision outside of Vex's authority is when Lloyd first appears and causes him to start questioning things.

If you think about it, the combined efforts of Vex and the Scroll deprived him of any real, authentic free will. He was nothing more than a lifeless machine carrying out orders.

And what, pray tell, is his greatest fear?

So maybe Zane does know, on some level, that it wasn't his fault. He knows he wasn't in his right mind, that he was nothing more than a puppet - a weapon wielded in the pursuit of Vex's ambitions. But still he clings to the tiniest scraps of guilt he can possibly conceive of, because even if he's a war criminal at least it means he has some shred of humanity. Because he'd rather be a monster than just a machine.

Lloyd isn't afraid of him when they come back to Ninjago. Isn't upset at him. This isn't Lloyd's first time fighting the corrupted version of a friend, and as depressing as it is this just kinda feels like the norm for him. Hell, Lloyd has personal experience having his free will taken from him by malevolent forces beyond his control.

The ninja don't blame him. Nobody blames him. Even when the Ice Emperor incident hits the news, most of the public is on his side - they all rally to his defense: he was being controlled, he was being corrupted, he was being manipulated and abused!

And while plenty of the people in the Never Realm do blame him, plenty others don't either. Vex is soon identified as the real villain, and everyone rallies against him as the subject of their ire.

In another world, this might have been a good thing. Zane might have been happy, even, to get off so impossibly free of consequence. But every time someone says "it's not your fault" is just a reminder of the fact that they're right. It's a reminder that once again his memories, his agency, and his personhood were ripped away from him, turning him into the very thing he feared most.

He blames himself because he has to. Because if he doesn't, then that means admitting that he had no choice in the matter. It means admitting that he had been nothing more than a machine.

It's not his fault, but he wishes it was. Because at least then he'd still have some agency. At least then he wouldn't feel so violated.

[moongirlwidow]

@definitelynot-peterp4rker

*a simple note on your desk at the tower* *sealed with silver wax pressed with a widow’s hourglass encircled by thorns*

Dear Peter,

I know this might be a weird way to tell you, but when I have trouble talking about emotions I find it easiest to write into letters.

If you haven’t noticed, you kind of started a crisis. Don’t blame yourself, it was bound to happen at some point. I’ve been panicking, since this whole mess started. But you’re worth it, in my opinion. I thought I was lesbian, I’ve been clinging to that scrap of identity since I was six. But… I think I’m not, now. I don’t know what I am, I don’t think I’m ready to find a new label, other than sapphic. Sapphic just means any femme/woman-type person who has feelings for someone else like that. You know, we have evidence that Sappho herself was bisexual, so I guess I have that precedent. It’s kind of reassuring, actually. I don’t know how to handle this, I don’t know how to feel like I don’t know something about myself.

But, I did realize what I was really trying to determine, the reason I’m sitting here, writing this damned letter. Actually, I’m writing it because I’m a fucking idiot who has trouble with emotions. I hope you know MJ is laughing at me because it’s how I asked her out, too. Just in a much less intentional fashion. Anyways, I like you. Romantically. And I’m scared, but I want to give it a go. You’re a good man, Peter, and truly believe that. I want to try this, for both of us.

I should probably disclose, that in two other versions, variants of you have become brothers to me. We aren’t biologically related, I genuinely have not even connected you to them mentally. But I should probably disclose that. The multiverse is fucking weird. Feel free to avoid me forever now:)

My affections,

V. Volkov

P.s. if you don’t want to avoid me forever, which I feel is doubtful, I’m in the lab. Bruce isn’t here, but even if he was he wouldn’t care

[aftokrator-official]

some Thoughts on chapter 13 now that i've finished:

I LOVE HOEDERER.... i already did but like. Really enjoyable to get his POV in this event and see more of his inner thoughts and motivations. I'm fond of characters who are so tired and worn down and jaded, but manage to hold onto some scrap of hope regardless, even against their own better judgment. A lot like Mlynar in that way, tbh.

regrettably this chapter sold me on hoederines a little. i'm CONFLICTED because i love wines so much, dammit. (and manhoe, but there's not as much of a conflict with my headcanons there.) But their relationship is so good regardless of whether you read it as romantic or platonic.

speaking of, Ines was a delight in this chapter. Love her role as the resident non-Sarkaz Sarkaz who is completely unaffected by whatever arcane bullshit is getting to Hoederer and W in any given moment, so she can yell at them to snap out of it and save all of their lives lmao. I love her deep loyalty and care for them that she expresses in everything but words. ugh ugh i love her

the little subplot with Vendela and the Sarkaz commander who tried to keep her safe was sweet and sad, I wish he'd gotten a unique sprite at least. I kind of want to see her meet Flamebringer now and her reaction to the friendship between him and Perfumer... I feel like there's some parallels there.

We're starting to see some payoff to the buildup with Siege in this arc, and I'm so glad! I've never really understood the hate her arc gets - I know it's partly that I'm biased, she was my first 6* so I'm rather fond of her, and I just really like the whole concept of the Glasgow Gang. And I think it doesn't help that ch12 was (imo) the weakest part of act 2 so far. But also, it was always really clear to me that we've been just... laying the groundwork with her up til now, I didn't really expect her to have big moments or turning points yet? Idk. i kind of want to write a whole post about her arc and my thoughts on it at some point. BUT, I really liked her in ch13, seeing her start to really come into her own and how all the events of act 2 up until now have shaped her decisions.

I'M REALLY SAD ABOUT GUARD ACTUALLY??? :( Tbh I have not really cared much about New!Reunion until this chapter, except for Talulah, but I'm finally getting invested. And Talulah's confrontation with Eblana was AMAZING. I've always seen her as a foil to Talulah - while Talulah started down her path with good intentions and ideals, Dublinn seems to have been like late-stage Reunion from the very start, because Eblana has always cared more about seeking power than about the oppression of the people around her. SO FUCKING SATISFYING to see Talulah, of all people, calling her out on that, and protecting Reunion from her. I really hope we get more of these two in future, and also more Reed in main story please please pleeeaseee.

This chapter was wonderfully cohesive with the themes of tradition and bloodlines vs forging a new path. Siege, Delphine and Horn, all beginning to break away from their inherited roles in Victoria's hegemony and fight on their own terms instead. The Kazdel flashbacks, the spacetime feranmut, and Hoederer's POV - a character who wants to see a better future for Kazdel, while still remembering and learning from its past. Nine, Guard and Talulah dealing with what Reunion means as a symbol, and figuring out what it should become. Shining and Nightingale, confronting the Confessarii and their own past. Even Vendela, having to let go of the life and traditions she'd grown up in, the townspeople clinging to familiarity and the hope that things would go back to normal to the point that it was literally going to kill them. The confrontation with the Sanguinarch was such a great culmination of all of this, with his fixation on blood purity and the glorious lost past of the Teekaz. And he's defeated by several people who all soundly reject his vision of what the Sarkaz "should" be - Amiya, the outblood King; Logos, who does have a "pure" bloodline by the Sanguinarch's standards but refuses to be defined by the role he inherited; Hoederer and W, two of the mixed-race "commoner" Sarkaz he's so contemptuous of (and Hoederer specifically rejecting the idea that the Sarkaz's destiny must always be soaked in blood); Ines, who isn't a Sarkaz at all, except she is, because her family is Sarkaz, and she's always going to be one of them. It was! So fucking good!

[acradelius]

May I request a Sharkbait Mako smut? Like the reader is a noble figure who ends up falling for Mako?

"The Captain And The Noble"

Fandom: Overwatch / Overwatch 2

Pairing: Sharkbait! Roadhog ("Mako Rutledge") x Gender Neutral! Noble! Reader

Rating: Lemon [🟡] - (NSFW!)

Warnings/Mention Ofs: Overwatch Alternate Universe, Sharkbait! Roadhog, Noble! Reader, Gender Neutral! Reader, They/Them Pronouns Used For Reader, Unofficial Love Confession, Fingering- Roadhog Giving/Reader Receiving, Doggy Style.

Word Count: 1,319 Word

Taglist: @masterofpuns

If you'd like to be tagged for all posts, certain fandom posts, or certain character posts then feel free to message me!

It didn’t necessarily matter that his facial features were hidden away by that mask that was clinging quite tightly to his face, and upon further examination  it turns out that the mask itself was actually made from some sort of  taxidermied shark- trying to figure out how the colossal captain of the infamous ‘Ol’ One-Ship Apocalypse’ was actually easy to decipher if you happened to pay attention to his body language. Whenever going into a defensive mode Mako would always have his right foot stepped out alongside his right hand holding his scrap gun, shielding those behind him with his massive body. During times of seemingly feeling uncertain or even anxious Mako could be seen brushing his fingers along the curve of his hook, repeating the process over and over again until there was a resolve. How whenever he was behind closed doors of those that he truly trusted, Mako allowed himself to just.. relax. He could allow himself to just lay there in silence and take up space without having to worry about upholding some sort of ruthless killer persona. He could finally allow himself to take a breath and allow his thoughts to wander aimlessly, to give himself a moment to think of those other thoughts that everyone else was consistently thinking of. 

Such as this one.. 

“If there doesn’t happen to be any complications or conflicts of any kind, we should be reaching the port by the following evening,” While his words do disrupt the environmental sounds that are seeping into the captain’s great cabin through the cracks of the ship, they’re welcoming, if not also comforting as well. 

“..and by complications or conflicts I assume-” speaking the first part of their response (Y/N) proceeds to avert their attention from the journals of Mako that were sprawled across his grand table, having been reading the entries of the adventures and tales that had been written down, “-you’re meaning about Jamison agitating and antagonizing almost every other ship crew that we comes across?” 

“..correct.” 

As there happens to be a soft chuckle that leaves (Y/N)’s lips as they recall several memories of Jamison’s antics towards other ship’s crew, of how they would be trying to just enjoy a drink before going back on a long voyage and Jamison would be right up their ass boasting about how the crew of the ‘Ol One-Ship Apocalypse’ committed countless acts of piracy and would ‘blow the man down’ to anyone that tried to stand in their way, (Y/N) had slowly come to realize about how long it had truly been since they had been aboard the ship. It was supposed to be a simplistic escort and drop off type of mission to reunite the noble (Y/N) back with their original kingdom after having traveled to a distant kingdom in hopes of forming an alliance, but had decided that it was best to leave after one of the nobles had decided to try and make an unwanted and unwelcome advancement towards them. A simple return journey that would take a month or less depending on if there had been any complications whether it would be other pirates or if the weather had decided to take a turn. 

It has now been seven months.. But, ultimately, (Y/N) wouldn’t have changed a single thing. 

“If this happens to be the end of our journey,” They speak softly, as if raising their voice to be heard clearly would disturb the peacefulness that they are currently experiencing, “-then I’d have to admit that I’ve quite enjoyed it.. I’ve also enjoyed your company as well, whether you happen to believe it or not.” A moment of silence proceeds to overtake the environment and there happens to be a soft sigh that escapes past (Y/N)’s lips before they turn around to face Mako. There had been certain.. thoughts.. images.. that had been occupying the space within their mind, and since it was the end of their journey together (Y/N) would rather go ahead and reveal them to Mako instead of keep them to themself and wonder for time beyond what could’ve happened. “I know that we’ve already discussed a certain amount for the journey, and with my elongated stay I do plan on paying you interest, but I was wondering if I may indulge in some fantasies with you before we are to part from each other.”

Fingers brush against fabric as they seek out the hems and binds of the clothing upon them and then using said fingers to slowly discard said clothing until they’re nothing more than a simple pile upon the floor. Those words, that confession that came from (Y/N)’s lips, now combined with the sight of (Y/N)’s bare body in front of him, was enough to cause Mako to sit up straight. Were they serious? They wanted to spend some time with him like this? Allowing themself to be bare and wanting to be intimate with him? It definitely was surprising, considering that someone that was such like him, had done the things such as he has, would typically cause a noble such as (Y/N) to view Mako in only disgust and stigma. He couldn’t help but to allow his eyes to wander across (Y/N)’s body, and soon enough finds himself enclosing the distance between the two until his body is pressed up against their own. Mako’s large, meaty hands gravitating towards (Y/N)’s hips, hoisting them to be laying stomach first on the table, not caring about the numerous pages and other objects that clattered amongst the floor. “..ta’ be honest with you, I’ve been thinking the same thing..” 

It doesn’t take much longer for those arousing feelings to intensify, and soon enough two of Mako’s fingers are slowly, gently, thrusting within them, trying to find that particular spot that would hopefully bring (Y/N) to seeing stars or even something beyond the stars within the galaxy above them all while his other hand is slowly, teasingly, stroking his own massive cock. Mako’s fingers eventually become wet the more that he thrusts them until his cock is just absolutely hard and throbbing, and he can’t bear to not be within (Y/N) anymore. “Easy goes, just let me know if it hurts,” Mako mumbles underneath his breath as he proceeds to push his weight onto (Y/N), slowly and cautiously pushing his cock into that warm, wet, tightness. 

There’s a soft whine that proceeds to escape past (Y/N)’s lips at the sensation of the initial stretch of Mako’s cock slowly entering them, and then that increasing pressure within them as inch by inch does his cock continue filling them. Their hands move to grip the sides of the table in some attempt to ground themselves but it doesn’t do much as the pleasure swarms their mind, soft moans and shaky breaths leaving them as Mako begins to rock his hips against them, causing their body to bounce back against him and the table underneath them to shift slightly, the table creaking underneath the weight and the movement. “F-Fuck, M-Mako~,” Managing to speak the man’s name in between breaths and that coil that was increasingly tightening coil within them, bringing them closer and closer to the verge- “I-I’m cumming!~” (Y/N) doesn’t bother to try and control the volume of their voice as their orgasm proceeds to overtake them, body trembling quite intensely against Mako’s, back arching against his stomach, eyes dilated from the bliss coursing throughout their system. They don’t even get a moment to catch their breath before Mako begins picking up the pace of his thrusting once again, chuckling as he bent over to whisper within (Y/N)’s ear. “How about you keep your money and I get to keep you here by my said as my own treasure, eh?~”

[gravedigg]

Six Song Soundtrack Playlist

Tagged by @ferindencadash (thank you!!)

I'm filling this out for Angel, I'll write up a little list of explanations for each and link his playlist below <3

1. An event that defines your character's past

Bad luck never leaves Your jinx just floats around Like the taste inside your mouth Or the sound when your skull cracks Feel the growing pains It means you're growing up too fast While you were sleeping I was blood red Sharp as a knife inside your stomach I'm squeezing tight, don't let the light in No medicine Daydream tendencies had you smiling soft and sweet Keep those blurry memories somewhere safe You may need them You can make a wish But there's no rabbit out the hat Realize it's never coming back Realize it's never coming back

2. How your character sees themselves

Waiting for the train In the dead of night I howl We all have our evils We're told just to keep calm Curled up and feeble Plagued by our brains, the internal sinking pain I wish I was equal, if only that simple I wish I was people (I WISH!) The train it now arrives, I plead just take me home

3. How others view them

Driving faster in my car Falling farther from just what we are Smoke a cigarette and lie some more These conversations kill Falling faster in my car

4. Their closest relationship (platonic or romantic)

Well, prove to me I'm not gonna die alone Unstitch that shit I've sewn To close up the hole that tore through my skin Well, my trust in you is a dog with a broken leg Tendons too torn to beg for you to let me back in You said, "I can't prove to you you're not gonna die alone But trust me to take you home To clean up that blood all over your paws

5. A major fight scene

As it fell on Job's eyes, this water of doubt, he said, "I'm wading in lies, it's wearing me out. But if you want it, all right. I'll buy it." Blood too dirty for mosquitos, I hope that you die soon. Pray to any god you believe in. Those people, they had families. Their families don't have them. You're not any god I believe in. I hope the rain ruins the work you did.

6. End credits song

It's okay, I don't even cry all I think about is a memory and the dream when you kissed my arm as I look away, don't hear what I say That maybe when I die, I'll get to be a car driving in the night lighting up the dark. something in your voice it sparks a little hope I'll wait up for that noise your voice become my home

All of these are from Angel's playlist which is organized as a timeline of his life, from his childhood in foster care, to enlisting in the army at 18, serving in the Gulf War and losing his leg, to the ensuing depression while he recovers and relearns how to walk, to his lengthy bender of sex & drugs when he moves to the city and finds out about gay bars, to him trying desperately to pull some semblance of a life together with what scraps of himself he has left.

As a bit of a guide;

An event that defines your character's past

This ones in reference to Angel's injury while serving in the army, an explosion tearing through his leg and shrapnel ripping up his shoulder and face. He spent a good amount of time bouncing between hospitals, from field hospitals to Germany and back state-side, and had to come to terms with the reality and severity of his injury.

2. How your character sees themselves

I think in many ways its always been this way, but it definitely worsened after being disfigured; Angel has always seen himself as less of a person and more of a monster, which is why he's always felt a sort of kinship with the Monster in Mary Shelley's Frankenstein. I think its a potent cocktail of autism, self esteem issues, and the endless, clinging isolation of growing up in the foster system.

3. How others view them

I think from an outside view Angel comes off as really mysterious and cool, he's very serious and quiet and drives a motorcycle. But in reality hes just autistic and terribly uncomfortable and would rather be at home.

4. Their closest relationship (platonic or romantic)

It takes so much patience and soft love to get Angel to unravel his layers and layers of bottled up shame and pain and desperation. He learned from a young age that to survive he needed to keep as much of himself hidden as he could, and he's clung to that sentiment his entire life. He struggles so much expressing when hes suffering and asking for help, will keep things bottled up even when he knows hes sabotaging himself.

5. A major fight scene

This one's the climax point of his experience with war, having whatever faith he clung to shaken hard when he saw sheer cruelty and mindless violence of it all.

6. End credits song

This is the last song on his playlist, to me it symbolizes this feeling of hope for a future that's really new for Angel, he's spent so long trying to just get through each day. Having someone by his side that he can dream of a future with is more than he could have ever asked for.

Also im tagging @nullshocked, make this for Jules pls.

And if you're reading this, you should do one for your oc :-)

[oldhalloweentape]

🐀Junkrat (OW I & II) x (gn) Reader💣

(Junkerqueen Fan Reader Edition!)

(Request here! Hey!!! Thank you all so much for the love you guys give my works, I can never be thankful enough lol.)

- When you first join Overwatch, much like he has done with everyone else he tries to be “friendly” in his weird way.

- Over the moon when you are receptive to his attempts at friendship, even more so when things turn romantic between you two.

- Dude Junkrat is in the same boat as you, been a fan ever since she won her throne, literally canon.

- Indulges your interests, JQ especially, I have a mental image of you two shaking each other excitedly whenever she goes and scraps.

- He gets a little jealous but honestly, I think he wouldn’t think too hard about it, it’s the Junkerqueen, she deserves the applause you give her after winning.

- his diary suffers greatly when he slaps papers detailing his love you and your shared interests into it.

- Roadhog sees it as both a blessing (because Junkrat isn’t clinging to and babbling as much) and a curse (your shared screaming over the 7’0”ft ruler can be grating to the ear).

- Junkrat adores the fact that he can gush over something like this with you, the shared excitement makes him so giddy.

- When you guys are assigned to a mission with Junkerqueen he blabs about you being her biggest fan and how she’ll love you… It’s embarrassing but he has a good reason behind it.

- Reminiscent to how a parent would try to make their small child to introduce themselves to another young kid… Will stop it if you voice a negative opinion over it, but will be super mopey about it knowing him.

- I don’t know if there’s much Junkerqueen merch in the Overwatch verse, but if there is?? You bet your lucky star Junkrat snatches you some.

- Even if he’s unlucky in his ventures he’ll just make you some! …It’ll be a disaster but can’t blame a guy for trying!!

- He’s naturally proud of himself so I can see him giving a wonky-looking Junkerqueen figurine that’s eyeball falls out the second he gives it to you with a smug expression while saying “You’re welcomeee”.

- If you do the same for him he’ll treasure it forever, thanking you over and over while showering your face with slobbery kisses.

- He gets so bouncy when it comes to you, literally, bounces around while rambling about you to anyone unwilling.

- ….Would probably count as psychological torture akin to SpongeBob laughing about some god-awful joke.

- It doesn’t matter to him whether or not you’re from Junkertown but I see this love for Junkerqueen being perpetuated to a great degree.

- Having support from other people besides Roadhog's gruff “yups” and “mhmm’s” means a lot to him, mostly due to my opinion that Junkrat desires to have meaningful connections with others, especially to ones he looks up to… And he looks up to you if you’re qualified enough to join Overwatch.

- He’s a weird yet lovable loser; which is something we can all relate to, to a degree.

- He doesn’t have much self-awareness but he knows one thing for certain, he cares about four things: You, Roadhog, bombs, and money— Indulging in all four in his day-to-day life.

(I might take a break from writing Overwatch x Reader requests so I can indulge in one of my… Other interests.)

[windywriter]

I think something a lot of people forget abt botan mikey is that he isnt doing this just to be cruel. Hes doing it because he cares so damn much. Like, the entire reason botan exsists (to me) is mikey's way of concentrating the cycle of violence on himself. Like, during the execution hes barely paying attention. Yes he shoots takemichi but i think he does it 1 bc his dark urges have so seemlessly melded with him he doesnt even hesitate to kill and 2 its a warning.

Like i feel like hes let botan become so violent and dangerous to 1) keep others from hurting those he loves and 2) to keep those he loves away from him. Like, considering draken's warning i wouldnt be surprised if he learned the hard way to not approach mikey anymore. Its a lil sad but i think mikey blames himself for starting this cycle of violence once he got a hunch abt shinichiro. So he takes the burden on himself. I mean, look at the executives of botan. Theyre scraps of tenjiku and the black dragons. Both groups that were important to Mikey's family and are both reminders about how he utterly failed them. Sanzu is also a sort of sour reminder to mikey abt what he did and turned him into.

Opinions/angst ideas below

Like if you did wanna do a self insert, mikey would probably push you away and act like he doesnt know you at best. At worst, well, we all saw how takemichi almost ended up. At most hed probably just send ppl to check up on you every once in a while. And even if you did somehow manage to stay with him, it honestly might be worse. Like congrats, you get to watch the man you love slowly descend into a husk of what he once was. You mightve been able to be one of the people who kept his dark urges suppressed but with everything that happened + his idea that he has to take on all burdens as penance. You will at best lessen the symptoms. If anything your relationship will probably devolve into the only thing keeping you two together is the faint attachment that Mikey has towards you (i mean he still eats taiyaki) and the scraps of your love diluted by pity and grief.

Itd probably be heart breaking when mikey realizes he cant let you go and you wont let go either. Like, youre fucked. The both of you are so completely and utterly fucked and theres no escaping it. You were doomed the moment you said you would stay. Bc youre the last thing that makes him feel anything besides misery and he is painstakingly familiar with what happens to people who are like that. So I feel like Botan Mikey wouldn't be a yandere in the traditional sense where he'd keep you locked away forever. It'd be more he desperately wants to cling to you but at the same time hes just waiting for the other shoe to drop even though he desperately does not want that to happen.

[evolutionsvoid]

I already know that this entry is going to drive Eucella crazy, what with my...limited knowledge on this species. To be fair though, the information we have on this species as a whole is rather meager, but I feel like it would be a missed opportunity if I didn't write at least something about it! It is important that my readers know of every species, even those we have yet to fully understand! Indeed, I know Eucella is going to be furious at the idea of adding in an entry that is mainly scraps and shoddy guesswork, but when has her temper ever stopped me before? Onwards, I say!

This entry is on the Hundun, a species I feel that a lot of folk aren't even aware of. It would certainly make sense, as not a lot has ever been said or spread about this creature. One of the big factors for this is because the Hundun has (currently) only ever been found in one cave network in one specific region of the world. And even then, one needs to go in real deep to find them, so much so that discovering this species was pretty much an accident, done when an explorer got lost in the labyrinth of tunnels. Thankfully, a rescue team was able to find them and get them out so that their story could be told, resulting in a group of better equipped researchers going in to confirm their existence. At the time, most people thought the poor sap had gone crazy, losing their mind in the absolute darkness and silence only a cave can create. When researchers found the chamber deep within the network, the fantasy was found to be real.  

So what is a Hundun? A good question, because we are currently still trying to find a way to properly answer that. They got no bones, so we can strike a whole branch of life out the equation there. No real exoskeleton means another chunk of the tree taken out, but once we rule those pieces out, we have very little else to narrow it down with. There are a staggering amount of creatures out there that have no bones and aren't bugs, and we still struggle to even sort those properly! Now, we find a species in the depths of some remote cave network, whose anatomy makes even less sense. Back to the question of: what is a Hundun? The answer is that it is a blob of juice, jelly and odd organs that is wrapped in a thick membrane and given six "legs" and four "wings." I stress those words because we don't really have the confidence to truly say that those are what they are. The "wings" have had some folk liken them to gills, yet the Hundun has been seen flapping these appendages and gliding with them from time to time. But no real flight has been observed, and their use of them as a glider is quite sparse. As for their legs, they do aid in travel and climbing, as these are what they use to cling to cavern walls. However, despite their claws, there are no other rigid structures to them, and openings on the bottoms of these "feet" makes these limbs feel more like protruded orifices. And those aren't even the weirdest parts! If one ever got a good look at a real live Hundun, they would have the same question as every researcher: Where's its face?!

Indeed, the striking thing about the Hundun is that it doesn't appear to have a face, or head, or anything we could equate to a noggin. The front of them ends in a smooth membrane, as blank and curved as an egg shell. There are no eyes, no nose, no mouth, nothing. Now some may point out that just because it doesn't have the typical organs and holes that common animals have on their face doesn't necessarily mean they are faceless. Surely there is something there, we just aren't seeing it! And aren't their plenty of cave animals with no eyes? Correct you are! However, when I say they don't have these things, I literally mean they don't have them. On the surface of their front end, we cannot find anything that we could equate to the usual sensors or openings that other creatures have. Perhaps, these special organs are found within the body, but that is another mystery we have yet to figure out. We can't exactly cut a Hundun open and lay it out for all to see. This is because their bodies are practically bags of gelatin just waiting to pop and slosh to the floor in a sloppy mess. Their organs and insides are so sensitive and fluid-like, that they pretty much melt into a puddle of useless juice once their hide is ruptured. Attempts at dissecting dead specimens has resulted in incomprehensible slop and zero answers. Some have used magic to freeze samples solid before cutting, but this process inevitably causes damage to the organs and insides, so we cannot observe them as they normally would be. It's just....baffling. 

If it has no face, how does it breath? How does it eat? Plenty of these questions arise when faced with such an enigma. Breathing is one we feel we figured out, pointing to the wing gills and the soft damp nature of their membrane. We think they can pull in air through these gills and even straight through their skin. As for eating, we have wondered if the skin breathing can also result in skin eating, where it can absorb particles from the air or stuff that settle on their skin. The discovery of their foot orifices now makes us think they eat through those, sucking up food as they walk or cling to the walls. What do they eat? Not really sure. Don't have much of a stomach to open up and poke around through. Probably lichens and tiny creatures that live on these cavern walls, as we have never seen a Hundun chase after food or hunt anything of notable size. What we do know is that their diet is so niche, that keeping them alive outside of these cave systems is near impossible. Specimens removed for long periods of time will starve to death, or die from complications due to eating something that doesn't settle well in their system. All attempts to keep them alive outside of their cave system has been met with failure, so all research is done just outside of these caverns, temporarily capturing specimens for quick tests and observation, before immediately putting them back.

Thankfully, we do know that they lay eggs, but how they get the stuff to make and fertilize eggs, we don't know. No mating rituals have been observed, and no mated pairs have been spotted in the cavern. They simply lay eggs, that then hatch into more Hundun. So even there, are answer is laughably simple.

So if we are utterly clueless about the workings of the Hundun, then what does the world think of them? To be fair, most of the world doesn't really know they exist. Live specimens don't survive long, and preserving dead ones isn't easy either. Any preservatives eventually melt them into colorless goop, and taxidermy doesn't really work on a bag of juice. And with our sad amount of information, most folk would think it is all a lame researcher joke. Locals wound up having stories about this species, but this was all veiled in legends and myth. Tales of ghostly spirits in the depths of the caves, of lost souls in the pits of a dark hell. Obviously, most folk thought these were ghost stories, but now with a glowing orb of living flesh, it feels that these were encounters with the Hundun long ago. Even now, the people of the region speak of this species as a primordial creature, one that has been around since the forming of the world. Some even claim that these creatures are tiny unborn worlds themselves, walking eggs waiting for their day to hatch. It is times like these where I do not turn to my usual scoffing of superstition and dramatics, because I feel that they are onto something here. A primordial being, not a bad theory! Perhaps the Hundun are truly a prehistoric species, one that existed countless centuries before! Isolated in the depths of the earth, far from other creatures and the ravages of nature and time, there is no telling of when they split from the rest of life, or perhaps when the tree of life diverted from them! This could be an incredible case where we found a pocket in the world where time froze, where the ancients still survive to this day! It is an incredible thought, now if only we could figure them out in the slightest!

One last frustrating note: one of the times I was doing research down in the Underworld, my travels took me to a remote cavern town in my pursuit of strange new specimens. While I was visiting, I spotted Hundun on some of the cavern walls, and just as I was going in for a closer look, I saw a demon and their imp playing with one! I was quick to ask about what they were doing, and they straight up tell me that these Hundun are like pets to them! Adorable little squishy beans! I nearly burst out of my own bark hearing this, because here was a community of people who have interacted with these things for decades, perhaps centuries! Such close contact with this species that has never been documented before! I almost threw all my current notes into the nearest fire, because here was my new research! My new thesis! My masterpiece! I would be able to find out answers about the species that puzzled researchers for decades! So I didn't waste any time, barraging everyone with questions about the Hundun and what they know of them. You know what I got? "No idea, but they sure are cute!" THAT'S IT!? YOU PEOPLE HAVE BEEN LIVING WITH ONE OF THE GREATEST ENIGMAS IN NATURAL HISTORY AND PHILOSOPHY FOR DECADES AND YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT THEM?! I ask "what do you feed your pets?" and they say "oh we don't feed them, they somehow do it themselves." I say "isn't it weird you don't feed these things? Haven't you noticed what they do when they're hungry?" and to that they say "Yeah, it sure is weird, isn't it? Got no clue, but they seem to be doing fine!" I sadly admit that my research of this town and the Hundun had to be cut short for that trip, as my guides had to drag me out of there before I had a total mental breakdown. I will probably have to wait awhile before going back, because I think my crazed screaming rant in the middle of town left a rather poor impression.  

Chlora Myron

Dryad Natural Historian

Oh good! An entire entry of you just saying "I don't know!" Wonderful! Excellent! Just what your book needs, Chlora! You are doing this on purpose, I swear! - Eucella -

[thebestofoneshots]

I have been summoned :D

Hello!! Thank you for tagging me because I love analyzing so much 😊

First, I’d like to say and warn you that my predictions may be too far-fetched/detailed. Quite literally researched so much to double check my facts and opened a word document to for out my analysis and to plan and space out my thoughts (Get it? Because constellations and all are in space…? Anyway-)

1) We gon’ analyze this from top to bottom. The top two corners of the cover have the same sigil, just inverted. A crescent moon, a star, and a girl. Now, if we were to just scrap the surface of the meaning; The crescent moon is Remus, the star (of the show) is Sirius and of course, the girl is the reader.

But what I find interesting is how you chose the waning crescent moon to represent Remus, instead of the full moon like most people do. The waning crescent moon symbolizes ‘the perfect time to rest and regenerate’. Ironically, the waning crescent moon is one of the first few stages of the moon before it turns full once more.

I’d like to think that you’re representing Remus as his own person. He is a werewolf, yes. However, it doesn’t define him as a whole. That is not all who he is. Not to mention, I love how the moon partially encompasses both the girl and the star.

The latter two are positioned in a way that makes it seem like they find comfort with the moon. The moon has a small opening; it doesn’t confine the star or the girl. Rather, it encourages freedom and independence.

Ergo, Sirius and Reader find comfort with Remus and Remus protects and shelters them in a way (reference example: when Remus calmed Sirius and Reader down from causing trouble with Barty Crouch Jr.). Remus doesn’t restrict neither Sirius nor Reader to be with him. They can come and go as they please, and Remus wouldn’t mind. But the positioning of the girl and the star make it quite obvious that they choose to be with the moon. They want and are drawn to it.

I also want to highlight the fact that the star is practically clinging to the middle of the curve of the crescent moon. Referencing Remus and Sirius’ good relationship (platonically or romantically, take it as you please) and how Sirius is connected to the moon, only because of Remus. However, the girl is sat towards the edge of the crescent moon. Almost as if she’s looking at the moon and the stars. Referencing that Remus and Sirius are not the only reason why she has this connection with the galaxy.

The Reader being a fairy already made that connection and helped her have a natural inclination towards subjects like Divination and Astronomy. I think her being drawn towards our two boys just amplifies it. Moving on!!!

2) The Sun. It’s partially filled in. Maybe it’s nothing. But I feel like it’s something. So I thought, ‘What could possibly block out the Sun?’. Short answer; the Moon. When do the Moon and Sun align together? During a lunar eclipse, werewolves don’t transform apparently. So, perhaps there will be a lunar eclipse to come within the next three remaining chapters? Perhaps a really soft Moony too 🤭.

Suns – There are suns scattered every on the cover. There’s a sun on the crescent of the moon, suns at each corner of the book title. Suns at the bottom. But that’s not just the Sun, but it shows Earth and Mars too. I’m not entirely too sure about the science behind this, but I do know that there will come a point in time the Sun, Earth, Moon and Mars will align together in a straight line, creating the total lunar eclipse. So perhaps, we wouldn’t get a regular eclipse, rather a total one.

Also, the Sun represents life, light, warmth, power, and divinity. This somewhat correlates with the symbolism of the fox. Perhaps this hints that the Reader is the biggest star among the three. Because if the Reader has some sort of correlation with the Milky Way, which contains so many suns, technically that would make her brighter than the brightest star of Canis Major and the moon put together ;)

Not to mention, moonlight is just reflected light from the Sun. Without the light, we wouldn’t be able to see the moon. (I actually have no idea where I’m going with this last paragraph 💀)

3) The constellations; (from left, right then center) Canis Major, Lupus and Vulpecula. All of which represent different animals.

Canis Major is a dog = Sirius

Lupus is a wolf = Remus

Vulpecula is a fox = Reader

Now the first two correlating with each other makes sense. Considering Sirius’ animagus and patronus is a dog, while Remus turns into a werewolf and his patronus is a wolf. (Remus never actually casts a corporeal patronus as to not make people suspicious of him. Poor Moony).

Now the link between the Reader and foxes interests me. My biggest hunch I have right now is that Reader is also an illegal animagus like Sirius. Which would make sense considering a fox is a symbol of spirituality, creation, omens, afterlife, offering wisdom, guidance, protection, nobility, and a sign of good luck to those they encounter them.

And the Reader has proven to show a majority of these traits naturally. How did the Reader become an animagus? In the earliest chapters of this book, I recall that young Reader and Sirius bought a book about animagi. I also faintly recall Reader copying some important pages off the book (most probably the process and preparation for the potion and all).

Next, there is something behind each constellation that represents our beloved main characters. Canis Major and Lupus have the marauders map behind them, representing their involvement with the famous Marauders, the four boys sharing their shared tendency to spread and cause mischief.

The same can be said about Vulpecula, however there is the faint sigil of the Milky Way. The Milky Way symbolizes coming of age and afterlife. Look at that, Vulpecula and the Milky Way share one thing in common in terms of symbolism. The afterlife. I think this correlates back to Reader being a fairy. One of the theories of fairy origins is that they are a representation of the spirits of ancestral dead. ✨ A f T e R l I f E ✨. Reader is about to pull out some serious powers >:D

That’s the suspicion anyway.

4) The moon cycle on the bottom. Initially I thought that it was a regular-degular moon cycle. Then it didn’t make sense because there were some stages that did not make sense. Why choose only certain stages of the moon? And they seemed slightly out of order. That’s when I realized, it was the blood moon cycle. Not a regular one. Plus, with the latest chapter being on the night of the blood moon, it makes sense. According to some resources, werewolves are most dangerous during these blood moons. So, assuming we get a chapter with a lunar eclipse, we would have witness different intensities of Remus’ transformations. I’ll end this here.

Whoever reads this, bless you and your patient soul for sticking through this long with (1230 words if you end at ‘with’). Also I just read the comments and realized that @starchaser-lily also made some points that make me look like I’m copying them… I swear I didn’t read it until I looked at the comments 😭 😭 😭 But you have really good points! Great minds think alike? Idk if I’m helping my case 💀

Have a lovely day and lots of love! ~

I cannot confirm or deny anything but, can I just say….

I freaking love my readers?!? I mean look at this 1k words worth of theories over a single poster that’s so freaking amazing! And son well thought out of and so detailed and ingenious. Like man, this is university worth quality analysis, and for my poster??!? I feel so freaking honored!

And the ATTENTION TO DETAIL holly mother of Merlin so freaking precious. Like all of your freaking theories, you guys are brilliant *cries*!

I literally have the cleverest readers of the whole cosmos! I’m so freaking lucky!

Side note: not sure why you think it’s only three chapters left?? It’s a whole lot more than that, like I’m already working on chapter 26 and the end toll is borderline going to be like 40 chapters so you guys are in for the long run.

I did say it was going to be slow burn, didn’t I?

For those who have no clue what this entire thing it’s about, some of you guys ( @cometsghost @starchaser-lily @moonyunebi and a certain little annon ) were theorizing over on this post about a poster/cover for Gilded Constellations!